


Those 5 Little Words (Louis' POV)

by SinkingWithLife



Series: A Collection Of Larry Stylinson One Shots [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-30 10:02:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinkingWithLife/pseuds/SinkingWithLife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 words, 7 syllables. It was inevitable. </p><p>-</p><p>   Just a drabble I wrote because I'm trying to avoid sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those 5 Little Words (Louis' POV)

   He stood motionless staring into the eyes of the man he has loved for 4 years but only had for 1. He was weak in the knees because his eyes weren’t warm and welcoming like they usually were, they held a large amount of sympathy and that made Louis’ heart race, not in the good way.  
  
   He was on a life raft in the middle of the sea and he felt as if a drain in the bottom of the ocean were about to be pulled and he would flush down with all the other creatures of the sea.  
  
   “Louis.” Harry said, biting his lip and Louis no longer felt that familiar rush of lust.  
  
   _Just say them_. Louis thought, _5 words, 7 syllables._  
  
   “I-“ Harry paused and Louis waited because he knew the end was inevitable but he just wishes that it would have come a little farther down the line. _4 more words Harry, 6 syllables._  
  
   Louis spared a glance at the clock, 11:20 and Louis’ world was about to crumble.  
  
   “I don’t-“Harry hesitated again and reached for Louis’ hand, Louis let him take it because he wanted to feel their fingers intertwine one more time.  
  
   “I’m so sorry Lou.” Harry breathed, and Louis stopped. “I don’t love you anymore.” He whispered, as if he said it any louder, it would shatter the fragile illusion that this wasn’t really the end.  
  
   Louis said nothing and Harry let his hand drop back to his side, leaving Louis with just the sting of sorrow and a cold, empty hand.  
  
   Louis didn’t cry and he didn’t beg for Harry to stay as he walked away from Louis and packed his bag because he knew this wasn’t a movie and there was no happy ending and no amount of words could stop Harry from walking out that door. He saved what little breath he had with these hands squeezing his lungs. His raft shook violently and threw him into his metaphorical water, and when his head broke surface and his arms flailed wildly for his rubber solace, it was nowhere to be seen.    
  
   “I’m sorry Louis.” Harry said again, and this time he was standing with two large duffel bags in each hand. Louis looked at him and offered a small smile which was not returned.  
  
   “It was inevitable, wasn’t it? Nothing good ever lasts.” He said and Harry sighed.  
  
   “Oh Louis.” He said, and tried to kiss Louis’ temple but Louis didn’t need any more reminders of what he would no longer had. He took a step back.  
  
   Harry didn’t pursue him, letting him pull away from him and Louis was suddenly grabbed by the ankle and pulled farther under.  
  
   “Goodbye Louis.” Harry said, and walked past him and all they had. Straight out the door. Louis couldn’t see where the sun was anymore and every direction he looked was nothing but a terrifying darkness, his lungs were on fire.  
  
   It was 11:23 and Louis was drowning in a sea of tears he refused to shed.  
  
   It was 11:23 and Louis didn’t know how fast things could change until the love of his life walked out on him in 3 minutes flat.  
  
   It was 11:30 and Louis was in their bedroom tearing it apart. He stripped the bed of its sheets and was hit by a tidal wave of a scent that was completely _Harry._ He closed his eyes and his nose and took deep breaths through his mouth. He stripped the bed of its sheets and pillows and of Harry.  
  
   He moved to the kitchen and scrubbed the dishes Harry had eaten off of that night, he scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed and erased the memory of the last dinner he had shared with Harry in their small apartment. He stacked them on the counter and left them to dry.  
  
   He turned the shower on and didn’t add any cold water because he wanted to feel the burn and wanted the mirror to fog over so that he wouldn't have to look at what was not enough for Harry. He scratched his skin red and washed all of Harrys fingerprints off of his body and watched as the last remains he had of him, little reminders scattered across his body that Harry was here and he was Harrys (except now he wasn’t) floated down the drain.  
  
   He hid Harry’s favorite beanie that he had left and slipped on one of Harry’s shirts he had found and tried not to inhale him because those hands that were wrapped around his lungs were still menacing and they didn’t seem to like it when they were filled with the scent of Harry.  
  
   It was now 12:02 and it was like Harry was never even here. His absence was that of a loved one passing away, it’s hard to remember what it felt like having them around and the only thing that you are left with is a gaping hole in your heart that no amount of bandages in the world could patch up.  
  
   12:02 is for the secret lovers, sharing kisses under hot covers.  
  
   12:02, for Louis, is for the lonely. With cold bed sheets and stained cheeks.  
  
   


End file.
